


Duel

by QuillMage



Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-02
Updated: 2013-03-02
Packaged: 2017-12-04 02:23:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/705427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuillMage/pseuds/QuillMage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No matter how many times they had clashed, neither had stood as the victor, always being interrupted or stopping before the finish. Though he should have known it was only a matter of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duel

**Author's Note:**

> Anyways, to all my readers, sorry if Kratos seems kinda OOC, it’s not properly mentioned but this takes place just after ‘Mithos’ appeared in Ozette so Kratos is stressed out about Yggdrasill’s sudden disappearance from Welgaia.  
> Fair warning, dark and adult themes are prevalent in my writing, so those implications probably mean exactly what you think they do. Oh, and there’s cursing too.  
> Enjoy!

Zelos glared at his opponent, breathing heavily, before making a small noise of surprise as his legs suddenly gave out, causing him to fall to the ground, his shortsword sliding from his grasp and stopping just out of reach. He attempted to at least push himself to his knees; failing in that he merely stretched his hand out as far as he could in hopes of wrapping his fingers around the hilt of his weapon, shaking from the effort and the ghost of adrenaline.

The blade was kicked away.

“Shining Bind!”

Zelos felt invisible chains wind around his wrists and ankles; he mustered the effort to lift his head up to glare hatefully only for another invisible chain to wrap around his throat and force his face against the dirt once more.

A light drizzle began to fall, as if to preempt the inevitable ‘it can’t get much worse’ thought.

He saw two feet enter his vision, “You push yourself to the absolute edge of your abilities, showing little evidence of fatigue up until the very point you have no strength to move. No wonder you lasted through our other fights.” An indifferent voice stated. “But you lost the duel this time.”

Zelos stiffened, duel? Well, he kinda figured that was what they were, but it was different now that he was defeated.

It had been explained to him once—Yggdrasill, annoyed by the pettily made and rather severe injuries slowing down his subordinates, proposed that in lieu of stabbing each other to solve disputes that they instead challenge each other to duels in which the winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser, though killing them may hinder Yggdrasill’s plans and such things are rather looked down upon, right up there with calling his lordship by his first name—all pleasantly told to him by a disconcerting smile-smirk and a voice with gentleness sincere enough to be fake as Zelos knelt before the slow movement of glimmering wings.

Zelos was proud, but he wasn’t stupid—he knew when to be intimidated into subservience by an all-powerful angel lord with the fickleness and emotional maturity of a thoroughly traumatized and extremely unstable fourteen year old child—and he knew taking on any of the Grand Cardinals in a duel was not a battle he could win, or at least not worth the potential injuries.

He also wasn’t soulless, despite how heartless and cruel he was disturbingly easily able to act like at times, so he was justified in flinching when a sword was plunged into the ground right in front of his face.

He stared at himself in its polished surface, though the light rain—closer to a misting than anything, only enough to just barely make itself noticeable—did pretty much nothing to wash away the blood on it, though Zelos’s blood was only on the edge as the blade had made only shallow slashes—his loss was due to mainly to a constant barrage of Grave, ironically enough—so he was able to see his red, yellow, orange tinted reflection—shaded with the flames of passion its wielder showed no sign of possessing and the fire within Zelos that had weakly flickered then guttered out like a candle at the end of its wick.

Zelos looked so defeated, so weak. His face was covered in streaks of dirt and there was a nasty bruise forming near the corner of his right eye that had smudges of blood on either side of it where he had been hit with the flat of the blade he now stared into.

He’d been damn lucky with that one, a helluva number of things could have gone worse with the blow—any higher and it would have hit his temple, and it was miraculous enough he had even been struck with the flat of the blade as opposed to the edge that sliced all too easily into his flesh, Zelos’s natural speed and grace was the only thing that saved him from lost limbs and death by blood-loss—and no Exsphere, not even a Cruxis Crystal, could have saved him.

The sword was pulled from the ground then its wielder made a small hand gesture and Zelos grunted as the Shining Bind unceremoniously turned him over onto his back and the tip of the sword was placed against his neck, nearly piercing the skin of the hollow of his throat.

His wrists were bound some distance away from his head, making him feel open and vulnerable. He was never making wide arm gestures ever again.

Zelos glanced down at the blade apprehensively, tilting his chin slightly away from it before turning his eyes up to meet the emotionless red-brown gaze of Kratos Aurion.

“You know, old man, neither of us actually declared that this was a duel.” Plus he totally cheated with that spell-spamming of his, not to mention all those damnable Judgments.

“It was mutually understood.”

That was unfortunately true; but he can’t fault a guy for trying.

Or perhaps he could.

“That was a rather weak and quite cowardly attempt.” Kratos informed completely without any change in tone or expression—not disapproval of Zelos’s spineless words, not disappointment at Zelos’s apparently craven personality when defeated, not even chastising for being a sore loser, not anything.

Zelos was unfortunately at a bad angle to see if Kratos’s Cruxis Crystal was missing its Keycrest or not.

It had been a deadly soft voice whispering in a dangerously low tone in Zelos’s ear as his arm was twisted painfully behind his back that had explained to him what a Cruxis Crystal without a Keycrest did to a person; though what had been said immediately afterwards that had truly defined the memory and was the reason he was able to remember the information so well.

_“and if I recall correctly, dear Seles has your Cruxis Crystal but not the Keycrest to go with it. If you don’t want your precious sister to die at the age of fifteen as a soulless husk, I suggest you prove it, human.”_

Zelos inwardly shivered, he had hit his knees faster than he had ever done—and probably will ever do—anything in his life. That had been the last time he’d dared to mutter _anything_ under his breath.

“Are you that fearful of what I may do that you all but resort to begging?”

Zelos inwardly flinched, well when you put that way…

“Do you believe I will act as others would? As Yuan? As Forcystus?”

Yuan? He’d never thought about what would happen if he lost to him—Zelos had never really imagined himself dueling Yuan for any reason; fighting him if it worked in Zelos’s favor to betray the Renegades, sure, but never actually _dueling_ him. Yuan would mock him for thinking it wise to challenge him, likely chopping off random bits of Zelos’s hair and slicing up his clothing a bit to make it look like Zelos got laid out by the rather weak monsters of the area.

Forcystus would probably only mock him; though Forcystus probably wouldn’t even bother to duel; and it’s not like he and Zelos would ever have a reason, Forcystus was actually halfway decent—especially compared to most of the other Grand Cardinals.

“Or maybe Rodyle?”

He suppressed a shudder, Rodyle would _love_ to get his filthy paws on Zelos; the man was a psychopath obsessed with experimentation, Zelos would probably end up dissected. While still awake.

“Pronyma?”

Zelos visibly paled.

“Or perhaps even Lord Yggdrasill himself.”

Kratos wouldn’t, surely not; but then again, he’s doesn’t exactly seem capable of mercy at the moment.

Zelos was not ignorant of the worst of what a person could inflict upon another.

In Meltokio, one always knows whether it is a half-elf or a human being executed because humans never had a reason to scream when they were killed.

He’d once been invited to an event that closed with the public execution of a half-elf as per custom.

It had been a young girl. Her human mother hadn’t been able to hug her goodbye because she had flinched away at any touch.

Zelos had cheered along with the crowd and had not eaten dinner that night.

He’d been taught to hate half-elves, but there was a line he hopes he will never cross—if he hadn’t already.

Zelos knew what Yggdrasill was capable of doing; how he knew how to convince people to do his bidding, through words, through pain, through torment and torture and ripping a soul into countless pieces.

Yggdrasill was a child filled with hate and the power to do great and terrible things, a power he wields with devastating mercilessness. He’s seen just as bad, if not worse than, what Zelos has seen, and was all too willing to do the same.

No, Zelos did not know exactly what Yggdrasill would to him if he were in Kratos’s place—not impossible as his lordship would accept any duel challenge and would take great joy in punishing those who dare defy him—but it would definitely be long, drawn-out, and painful beyond any method of expression.

According to Yuan, Kratos supposedly knows Yggdrasill best, so it’s a very real possibility Kratos may do that to him, especially if Kratos’s Keycrest has indeed been removed.

“Do you think I would kill you?”

Might as well be a douche if it doesn’t affect Kratos; Zelos has a natural dislike for him anyway. “Do you need a reason? You’ve betrayed and killed those you claim to love and I was under the impression you hated me.”

Something flickered in Kratos’s eyes, so he _did_ still have his Keycrest.

Oh good, now Zelos can be a douche and get the satisfaction of a reaction. “But if you _do_ kill me, Lloyd will hate you for all of time. Even though I’m going to betray him too, _I’m_ doing it for my sister. You didn’t do it for anyone but yourself, no matter your excuse. If Lloyd finds out you’re his father, he’ll probably count you among his trusted companions once more. But right now it’s _me_ that he holds in higher regard; even if I had planned to betray him for the sake of my sister, I was still one of his closest friends.” Zelos smirked at him, “You kill me, and Lloyd will _never_ forgive you.”

Zelos was all too well acquainted with the power of words and he knew how to exploit a weakness and make it _hurt_.

“There are fates worse than death.”

Well damn.

“But I shall spare you them.”

That means he was going to kill Zelos, doesn’t it? Great, just great.

Kratos lifted his blade before a green cyclone suddenly engulfed Zelos. It didn’t feel like Healing Wind—it made his wounds sting like the iodine the priestesses poured unsympathetically onto his cuts as a child when he got into trouble.

He was no longer bleeding, but he was still sore. He felt the invisible chains slide off of him as Shining Bind was released, prompting him to sit up.

Zelos did not say anything, staring at Kratos’s turned back, bare of the characteristic glimmering blue wings now that the effects of Shining Bind had been ended.

The rain started to come down harder, beginning to wash away the evidence of their duel.

“Why?” he finally asked.

Kratos glanced over his shoulder, remaining silent for the moment. Silence stretched on until Kratos moved his head back around to face forward once more. When he spoke, it was not in answer to Zelos’s question, “You view me as having cheated. Spells risk drawing unnecessary attention anyway; if it suits you, from henceforth we shall fight with our swords alone.” He began to walk away.

“Hey, I’m not done with you, old man.” Zelos said as he twisted around to grab his shortsword before getting to his feet and sheathing it, “Why didn’t you kill me?” he asked moving to catch up with him.

“You spelled it out quietly nicely just a minute ago.”

Zelos stopped, not expecting the answer, before demanding, “What did you mean, ‘fates worse than death’, because I _know_ you were referring to something in particular.”

Kratos acted as though he had not heard him.

“Hey!” Zelos ran up to him, “If it has anything to do with Lloyd-”

Kratos spun around, his left hand shooting out towards Zelos’s neck, “Do not bring my son into any of this!” he growled, instead of wrapping his fingers around Zelos’s throat, curled them threateningly around Zelos’s Exsphere and Keycrest, “You intend to betray whatever faith in others he may have, you do not deserve t-”

“You have even less right and we both know that every bit of this is about him.” Zelos interrupted, smirking as he mirrored Kratos’s actions by placing his hand on the one positioned to remove his Exsphere, poising to rip off Kratos’s own, “You fight me every time we meet because I mean to exploit him and these ‘fates’ you speak of are about Lloyd, aren’t they? I bet you didn’t even mean to let that line slip out. Doing anything Yggdrasill tells you to do is only bound to hurt him; as is, _I’m_ protecting him better than you are and look what I’m doing—reporting his every move to the enemy.”

Zelos knew he’d made a miscalculation when Kratos’s grip tightened and he narrowed his eyes, “Right now you only have a normal Exsphere equipped, if remove it after taking off the Keycrest, your body will transform into a monstrous creature that acts outside your will, whose sole instinct is to destroy; your only sentient desire will be to be killed, only reverting back to your original state once a fatal wound has been struck. Any decent human being would never do such a horrible thing.”

This was only proving Zelos’s point as he had never seen Kratos show as much as emotion—especially such great anger—as he did now. Maybe all the rage Kratos had held in at Zelos’s douchebaggery was now exploding outward.

Or perhaps his lordship wasn’t the only one thoroughly traumatized and extremely unstable.

“But I am neither decent nor a human being. Angels do not feel remorse; they do not feel anything.”

“You expect me to believe that crap when you’re so wrathful and filled with regret? Anyone can tell this monster you describe was someone you once held dear that you had no choice but to slay. It was Lloyd’s mom, wasn’t it?-”

Zelos let out a gasp of pain and surprise, falling to his hands and knees as the Exsphere whose Keycrest was now gripped in Kratos’s left hand burrowed its way under his skin, clutching at the sparse patches of grass beneath him in effort to resist the urge to scratch at it, rip it from his skin.

Though the thought did not fully register in his conscious mind, Zelos subconsciously felt as though something was off as the fingers of Kratos’s free hand dug into his neck and under his Exsphere, preparing to tear it out, “Death is a kindness I shall not give you; even though you will surely beg for it. Cruxis’s use for you is running out as is, your loyalties waver far more than they should.”

It was official—Zelos was well and truly fucked.

Zelos might as well verbally rip into him when he still could, “Good! I don’t want you to end my life for me, no matter how bad I wish to die! There is no single blade I will _ever_ fall to. The only person whose hands I wish to die at are those of my closest friend, my best bud, the one you have not, are not, and will not _ever_ be worth even _half_ of. At least when Lloyd kills, he does it with mercy.”

What was he _doing_? This wasn’t like him.

“And as I’m dying in his arms, I will tell him what you did. How you so heartlessly forced the same fate as his mother upon me, a fate worse than death that you supposedly were going to spare me from. You know what? I never lied to Lloyd, not like you did. I hid truths, but not as big as the ones you did. For what I can see, I—someone who should have never been born—am better than you; better than you at everything that counts and in every way that matters.”

 _I’m so sorry, Seles,_ _please…don’t forgive me._

“So kill me! Rip the Exsphere from my chest! Damn yourself to being nothing but hated and unloved for the rest of your eternal life!”

Kratos looked at him like Zelos wasn’t the only one he was seeing.

It seems Zelos was fighting more dirty than he had realized.

Kratos withdrew his hand abruptly and dropped the Keycrest onto the ground between them. Zelos snatched it up and reattached it.

As he watched Kratos walk briskly out of sight, he couldn’t help but think that he saw confliction, confusion, and something dark directed inwards—horror? disgust? hatred? disbelief?—in Kratos’s eyes right before he’d let go of him and that he had just witnessed—or rather, deservedly experienced—a rare lapse in Kratos’s self-control; Zelos had a feeling that, impossible as it seemed, that Kratos may have acted out of anger.

Or perhaps, maybe it merely was that Kratos had simply been unable to actually _see_ Zelos up until the very moment he’d released him.

The two never dueled again.


End file.
